Inadequacy
by SamuraiSal1
Summary: America's never been properly romanced, so when he enters a relationship with the country of love, he isn't fully prepared for it. But that's all right; France has been waiting for him for a long time. He won't give up on him so easily.


FrUS challenge, because I need to show that I ship more than just USUKUS.

* * *

When America had started dating France, he had expected some touchy-feeliness. He'd even prepared to be romanced (or whatever people called it). But he hadn't exactly expected there to be so much of it, or affection to have been so… obvious.

Truth be told, most of the relationships he'd been in had been rather unconventional. There was little hand-holding, and any other touch was generally reserved for kissing or other, more… intimate situations. And yeah, he'd always wanted someone to step up and say, "Hey, how about this time we just kiss or go on an actual date?" but he knew better than to expect much, given that most of the people he'd dated had rather… _cold_, to put it nicely, personalities.

So when France asked him out—or, rather, invited him to share a coffee and they'd had a long, rather personal conversation before France had finally asked him if he'd be willing to enter a relationship with him—America was a bit hesitant. Even the phrasing was different than he'd ever known. After all, "Enter a relationship with me?" implied that there'd, well, be an _actual_ _relationship_. He didn't know what to expect, exactly, but he agreed nonetheless, since he couldn't quite deny that he'd started to feel something for the Frenchman, too.

And, to America's surprise, they'd taken things… quite slow. He'd heard the stories, of course—of how France moved fast when in a relationship, how he had a tendency to get exactly what he wanted, while never quite insulting the person he was with. But now he was starting to question the accuracy of those statements. After all, France had said, sometime after they'd started dating, that he'd wanted to be with America for a while—and that meant he'd never tried to push anything, never tried to instigate anything before America was completely ready and showed interest. And even now, when they were together, he'd hardly done anything more intimate than a deep kiss after an evening picnic.

So, yes, America wasn't sure what to expect, even now. He didn't know how to deal with this type of situation, and to be honest, it scared him, just a little.

Obviously he'd be able to end it if he really felt so uncomfortable, but how terrible an excuse would that be in a break-up? "I'm sorry, but you're way nicer and better for actual relationships than I ever expected and it's starting to make me feel inadequate because I don't know what I'm doing. So I'm breaking up with you." Right, because that made a _lot_ of sense.

But even as he was thinking about it—on a train to some new destination for yet another date that would probably end with a sweet kiss and perhaps even some cuddling, if all went well—France was being sweetly serious, with such a concerned expression on his face.

"What's on your mind?" France finally asked, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm, smiling ever-so-slightly.

America tried to feel annoyed but found that he couldn't. Finally he just rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, not quite able to meet the other nation's eyes quite yet. "Nothing. Just—Um, wondering what we're gonna be doing tonight, is all."

France smiled a bit wider, leaning forward in an unspoken invitation for a kiss, which America met without much hesitation. "It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?" He asked, sounding rather smug about it all.

"Guess not," America said with a shrug. And he felt bad about it, but he couldn't quite shake off his melancholy just yet. If France continued to be so… so _thoughtful_, it would only be a matter of time before America answered him with the truth—that he wasn't sure how to deal with their relationship.

Fortunately for America, France left it at that, but didn't seem to be able to resist reaching for the other nation's hand across the table.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for the rest of the train ride, each nation lost in their own thoughts—though, notably, some had happier thoughts than others.

* * *

About an hour later, the train reached its platform and the couple gathered their things and stepped out. France, as per usual, wormed his hand into America's, not resisting the urge to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

America stayed conspicuously quiet, only adding to France's suspicion that something really was wrong. Still, France didn't speak up quite yet, instead letting go of America's hand to slide a hand around the other nation's waist, resting his hand on America's hip. And America couldn't just let that go without any sort of retaliation—as France knew good and well that if there was to be public affection, it shouldn't be so explicit and it shouldn't involve _touchinghiswaist_, so he reached over and, with a rather smug expression, reached over and slung an arm around France's shoulders, taking full advantage of his slightly (if _just_ slightly) greater height.

France just rolled his eyes and leaned over to lay further claim to America—using the other nation's lips this time—but the American nation pulled away, grinning.

"Nope, no real kisses until you tell me where we're going," America said in a typical teasing tone.

France gave a mock frown, pulling America closer ever-so-slightly. "Ah, but _mon amor_… I will get full payment in kisses when you see where we're going. So it's not really much of a punishment, _oui_?"

"Not exactly, I guess, but if you're really putting your heart into this date, I guess I have to enjoy it…" he paused, fake-pondering it for a moment before adding, "But I'm still not kissin' you 'till then."

"Ah, you're cruel, _Amerique_," France said. But his chuckles rather disagreed with his statement.

* * *

The surprise turned out to be a tour of the place where the Statue of Liberty was modeled and constructed. It nearly made America choke on all the affection he felt. (And wouldn't that be a terrible way to die? Death by an overflow of emotions?)

"I—France, What… You—"

France just cut off his stuttering with a small smile and a kiss. "I know, _mon cher_. And I know how much you still love my gift from so long ago… But today I'd like to make you a few more gifts. Memories, non? They're even more precious, aren't they?"

And America practically lit up, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Yeah—Yeah, let's make some memories."

They walked the short distance to a lake, where they stopped to have a picnic. It was nothing they hadn't done before, but everything felt so sweet, so sentimental, and for the first time in what felt like ever, America was ready for something so new and different.

When night fell, America curled up beside his lover. "You know?" He asked a few minutes after the starts had started to appear, one by one. "I think… I think I'm really starting to like this. Being with you, I mean," he clarified, noting the other nation's confused expression. "Just—I mean, I've… I've never really… never really been in a real, um, relationship."

"Never?" France asked, sounding surprised as he gently worked his fingers between America's. "But I thought, with you and…?"

"Nah," America said with a shrug. "I mean, almost, but… We didn't go on dates or say anything that really meant anything. It was always just… you know, things like that, and I never really…" he trailed off, not wanting to admit that the closest thing to a relationship he'd had was with Japan, shortly after he'd brought the other nation out of Isolation. "But—It's… It's nice. I really like this."

"That's good," France said, smiling that same serious smile he always had when they discussed less-than-happy topics. "I wasn't aware that you hadn't been properly romanced before, though. You are not… uncomfortable? I hope I haven't been doing anything… upsetting," he said, sounding nervous.

America chuckled. "No—No, you really haven't. I mean, yeah, I didn't really know what was going on at first, 'cause I mean, most people always think that you move fast, and I thought it was going to be like that, but… But I like this better. A lot better. And—And, I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't know what I'm doing half the time, and I don't know how to… how to make it work long-term, but I'm willing to try."

France turned his head, and gave his lover a very long look. "I'm glad, then. I was… worried. You seemed a bit unhappy earlier, _mon cher_. I'd been hoping I wasn't the cause of it."

"What?" America asked, eyes wide. "No—No, you're not the cause, I just—I don't know how to make everything… I don't know what to say, you know? I don't know what to do, how to act—"

"Just be yourself," France cut in, giving the other's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No—I mean, okay, that's good and fine for you, but…" America bit his lip. "I hate to say it 'cause I hate hearing it from other people, but it's true—for me at least, and just—You know that you could have better, right? You know that there are better-looking, kinder people out there, right?" And before France could protest, America cut him off. "No, you know it's true, don't even lie. As far as perfect people go, there are people better than me. And you actually know what you're doing, you know? With relationships and all. So, I mean, if I seemed unhappy, it's just 'cause you deserve better, 'cause I really have no idea what I'm doing." He sighed, leaning against his lover. "Sorry."

France slowly sat forward, gently reaching for the other nation's arms, grabbing hold of them easily. "Do not… do not apologize. If I had been aware of this type of thinking… _Mon Dieu_, I would have corrected you long ago."

"But I—But it's not a big deal—"

The French nation shushed him immediately. "_Non_. Listen to me—Whether there is someone 'better' than you remains to be seen, and even so, it is _you_ I want. No one else. Do you want to know why I had such a reputation for being promiscuous? Because although I dated many, I ended those relationships quickly because they were not _you_."

America's eyes widened, but before he could comment, France kissed him.

"You do not seem to be aware of how much affection I have gathered for you over the years. _Mon cher_… I have wanted you since your Revolution. Back then you were… more naïve, to be sure, and you were perhaps a bit more idealistic than you are now, but…" he sighed. "I am not saying this right. You are not as young as you were then. You have seen more of the world, and you have been taken advantage of, by more than one nation. They did not appreciate you as they should have, and they took your naivety with them. But… I did not stop wanting you, or loving you. Do you understand?"

There was a momentary pause, and finally America met his eyes. "I—What do you think? No, I don't and just, why? I'm not even the guy you liked in the beginning, you said it yourself and… I don't know what to do! I don't know what to say, or—or anything!"

France just sighed, pulling the younger nation towards him. "You will understand in time, I hope. Until then… I will do my best to make that time come faster. You deserve a long-lasting love just as much as anyone else—perhaps even more-so. You have waited so long, _mon cher_…"

America frowned, sitting back and out of the other's embrace. "I—Look, it's not a big deal. You're with me now, right? And neither of us has any plan of leaving any time soon, so… So it's really not a big deal. Not really, anyways."

"You're wrong, but…" France trailed off, then seemed to abandon his train of thought. He kissed America's forehead. "You know? You're right. And tomorrow we'll be going home… Ah, to my home, at least. And I'll make you whatever you'd like. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

The younger nation seemed to appreciate the change of topic and nodded, a content smile sliding back on his face. "I'd like that, yeah."

By then, the stars had filled the night sky, leaving no constellation unfinished. The pair lay against the picnic blanket and stared up, hands finding their mate's as the moon rose further up.

Neither would know eachothers' thoughts ("_I'll right the wrongs you have been given, no matter how long it takes_," and "_Please don't pity me, I'm inadequate enough already_,") but at that moment it didn't really matter. They had the stars and the lake behind them, and a future that looked bright.

What more could there be?


End file.
